


No Longer an Act

by Oatsotas



Category: Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types, New Dangan Ronpa V3: Everyone's New Semester of Killing
Genre: F/F, Homophobia, Honestly not sure what this is, Kirumi is best gay mom, Meeting the Parents, Melodrama, Moving In Together, Seriously she's always gay in my fics
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-09
Updated: 2018-02-09
Packaged: 2019-03-15 18:35:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,698
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13619247
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Oatsotas/pseuds/Oatsotas
Summary: Meeting a significant other's parents is always nerve-wracking. Will they like me? Are they accepting of the relationship? How are they as people? Of course, most people say that, in the end, it's not that bad.Tsumugi is about to find out how terrifying it can truly be.





	No Longer an Act

Nothing that Kirumi told her could prepare Tsumugi for what would happen when she stepped inside Kirumi's antique childhood home. Graduation from Hope's Peak had been three days ago, the same day as Kirumi and Tsumugi's two-year anniversary. How lovely it was to leap into Kirumi's arms, both of them tumbling about with their yearbooks. So many pictures were taken that day, but Tsumugi's favorite, and the one tucked into the pocket of her jacket, is the one where Kirumi, posh, sophisticated Kirumi Tojo, snuck a kiss on Tsumugi's cheek. The school had never felt more vibrant, more alive, with all of the studying and research being worth it for just that colorful day.

The interior of Harumi Tojo's house is, if anything, the antithesis of that day.

As Tsumugi walks in, she's immediately accosted by a long-faced, austere looking man. He's older, probably mid-40s, and peers at her through half-spectacles. "Please," he drones, his voice even and deep, "Remove your shoes and jacket and follow me. The mistress will attend to you shortly."

"Thank you, Mister Matsumoto," Kirumi responds equally as even. Mister Matsumoto opens his mouth to respond but Kirumi interrupts him. "I will show Shirogane to the dining area."

Mister Matsumoto glances between Kirumi and Tsumugi, his dark eyes flashing. He bows his head slightly. "Of course, Miss Kirumi."

The butler disappears through a door that Tsumugi could've sworn was just a wall a moment ago. She grabs at the sleeves of Kirumi's dress. "Ki-Ki-"

"Tojo," Kirumi says, peeling her gloves from her hands. "Tojo, until I call you by your first name." She taps the tips of Tsumugi's fingers with her own. "Just like we rehearsed."

Tsumugi bites her lip. Right, just like they rehearsed. They spent hours in their dorms and in hotel rooms practicing how to act in front of Kirumi's mother. Kirumi had told Tsumugi that her mother was a rather strict person and that she would likely be unimpressed by Tsumugi if the cosplayer did not act a certain way. 

That way being any way that Tsumugi would normally act.

All her life Tsumugi had been an actress in a way. She considered herself so plain that she simply  _ had  _ to put on an act to be noticeable. And if that wasn't enough, she could don a costume, alter her voice and change into another person entirely. Kirumi was the first person she never had to do that with.

Now, however, she silently repeats lines that Kirumi's given her. How to introduce herself, topics to bring up (they are few and boring), topics to avoid (too many to remember), when to speak. Before she hangs her jacket on a shiny brass coat hanger, Tsumugi takes out a handkerchief and dabs her forehead. No bead of sweat, no blemish or imperfection would do for Harumi Tojo.

"Come, Shirogane, it is this way," Kirumi says pleasantly. It's the voice she uses for clients and Tsumugi bunches the handkerchief between her hands.

"R-right," she says, nodding at Kirumi.

Kirumi brushes a blue hair from Tsumugi's shoulder then turns and makes her way down the dark hallway. Tsumugi's hand instinctively moves to where Kirumi's hand was. The first time Kirumi had taken her gloves off and touched Tsumugi was one the cosplayer couldn't forget.

-

They had been cleaning the classroom after one of Kokichi's pranks got out of hand. The day was gross, humidity clinging to everything. Tsumugi had already taken her jacket off and rolled her sleeves nearly to her shoulders. Kirumi, as dutiful as ever, seemed unaffected by the heat, as if her pinafore dress and tights and accessories were nothing. She drifted from task to task, slipping between them as naturally as breathing. By the time Tsumugi had finished cleaning the board, Kirumi had already swept and washed the desks and was working on brushing the ceiling, trying to get whatever it was that Kokichi had put in Gonta's lunch box that day.

After several minutes of scrubbing, Kirumi took a break and wiped her brow. As soon as she did, she met Tsumugi's gaze. The cosplayer quickly averted her gaze, but Kirumi only chuckled.

"Please do not tell anyone that you saw me wipe my brow." Tsumugi chanced a glance at Kirumi only to see the maid smiling and walking toward her. "It will tarnish my reputation."

Kirumi's sarcasm was something that had taken Tsumugi quite some time to get used to. She said it in such a straightforward, earnest manner that it was almost inseparable from her normal tone. "I won't, nobody would believe anyone as plain as me anyway,"

Suddenly, Tsumugi felt a gentle, albeit somewhat sweaty, hand rest on her chin. It drew her face towards Kirumi's, whose green eyes burned with, what was it? Anger? Passion? Tsumugi doesn't remember, or never put a word to it, only remembers what Kirumi said afterwards.

"Do not speak like that, please. You are the most wondrous in the class."   


-

Tsumugi touches her chin, then hurriedly removes her hand. She can't risk ruining the make-up she spent hours on this morning. Trying to distract herself, she looks around the house.

It's old, made from dark wood that seems to draw the light from the windows into it. The ceiling doesn't appear to exist, swallowed entirely by sprawling brass lights that twist along the walls and above Tsumugi's head. How rich is Harumi Tojo? 

Traditional artwork dominates the narrow hallways. Hypnotic, swirling mandala tapestries entrance Tsumugi in their dance and the deformed heads of recreations of the Sixteen Arhats seem to whisper among themselves. Their hollow eyes follow Tsumugi.

Above her, Tsumugi can hear footsteps and a muffled wailing marred by static. Some sort of music? As she and Kirumi turn one final corner the music stops abruptly.

"We are here," Kirumi says.

A dining room, similar to the European styles that Tsumugi had seen during her tour of the cosplay circuit there. A mahogany table etched with intricate carvings sits in the middle of the room surrounded by eight high-back, cushioned chairs, likely also mahogany. An overflowing bouquet of flowers acts as the centerpiece. In front of each chair, hand-painted china and silverware rest, positioned so carefully that even breathing could displace them. Photographs line the far wall, portraits and full-body shots of a young woman. Harumi Tojo.  
  
Kirumi had once described Harumi Tojo as the epitome of a picaresque beauty. Roguish, full lips always in a wry smile that wrapped men around her fingers. Curvy, womanly. Short enough to be cute but tall enough to entice. Tsumugi swallows hard as the photos confirm everything she's heard. Even worse is how much Kirumi looks like Harumi.

In the photos, Harumi has that silvery blonde hair that Tsumugi has so often intertwined in her own fingers. Their eyes match, both in color and intensity. But while Kirumi's are loving and tender, Harumi's are cold, defensive, fierce.

Tsumugi cradles herself in her arms. Breathe in. Breathe out. Breathe in. Breathe out. She has to keep calm, she has to keep to the script, make sure everything goes well. For Kirumi's sake.

"Tsumugi," Kirumi whispers like a breeze. She rests her hands on Tsumugi's shoulders and runs them down, forcing Tsumugi to let her arms drop beside her. Kirumi lets her hands linger on Tsumugi's, fingers tantalizingly close and Tsumugi wants nothing more than to hold tight until Kirumi loses circulation.

Of course, she's an actress right now. "Tojo," she whispers back and the maid drops her hands.

"Miss Kirumi. Miss Shirogane," Mister Matsumoto says, as if materializing from nowhere.

Tsumugi jumps and clutches her chest, her heart pounds against her ribs. Did he see them? Hear Kirumi? He must have. Oh no everything's falling apart already.

But Mister Matsumoto, if he had noticed anything, doesn't acknowledge it. Instead, he simply gestures to the chairs on either side of the head of the table. "Please, sit. The mistress will be in shortly."

"Thank you, Mister Matsumoto," Kirumi says. "Would you mind getting us some tea?"

Tsumugi regards Kirumi oddly. It's bizarre hearing  _ her  _ actually make a request of somebody. 

"Right away, Miss Kirumi," Mister Matsumoto says. He vanishes around a corner, though Tsumugi can hear him fiddling with tea cups in the next room.

Kirumi sits down at a chair and nods at the seat across from her. Tsumugi takes it quickly, leaving the two girls to stare at each other.

"You are doing fine," Kirumi says, voice sounding like a blanket that Tsumugi just wants to bury herself in.

Smiling back, Tsumugi splays her fingers on the shiny surface of the table. "T-Tojo," Tsumugi says, "Is… is this where you always ate? It's like something from _Hellsing_."

"No," answers Mister Matsumoto, who is standing in the doorway. Tsumugi grips the arms of the chair so she doesn't jump again. How does he do that?!

The butler sets the tray he's holding on the table and puts a cup in front of Tsumugi and Kirumi. As he pours piping hot tea into each cup he says, "This dining room is reserved for when the mistress is in one of her moods."

"One of her moods?" Tsumugi asks despite it not being in the script. She sips her tea to cover the error.

Mister Matsumoto's glasses glint in the low light. He stands at his full height, seemingly towering over Tsumugi. "When she's in the mood to make a point."

"Oh Matsu Matsu, always so dramatic aren't you?" says a husky voice. Harumi Tojo. Tsumugi looks at the opposite end of the table to see the woman saunter up and trace her hand along Mister Matsumoto's shoulder.

"I simply was telling them of your habits, mistress," Mister Matsumoto says, unphased. "Ah, Miss Shirogane, finished with your tea already?"

Tsumugi hadn't even realized how fast she'd been gulping down her tea. She silently positions the cup under Mister Matsumoto's kettle and lets him pour.

"Matsu Matsu," Harumi says, "Be a dear and get the appetizer ready."

"Right away, mistress." He leaves.

Harumi Tojo makes her way to the head of the table and Tsumugi finally gets a full look at her. She's tall, even taller than Kirumi. Her head is cocked and there's a faded scar running across her nose. Her lips, coated in a garish red lipstick, quiver as she moves. She brings a long, jade cigarette holder to those lips and inhales deep. Exhales through her nose. A trail of smoke follows her like a serpent. Shawls hang loose on her lithe, still shapely figure. Though her skin sags in places and her makeup doesn't match her complexion at all, she's still rather beautiful. It has to be her eyes, those eyes that look so similar to Kirumi's. That pleasant green with the depth and majesty of the forest. But Kirumi's forest is a magical woodland, a place where mischievous pixies and fawns scamper about. Harumi's is the dark, forbidden forest. Merciless, strict.

Tsumugi wishes she was back in the forest with Kirumi.

-

The day had been calm, pleasant was a good word to describe it. Kirumi had finished her work early and was more than happy to accompany Tsumugi as the cosplayer put the finishing touches on a commission piece. There was a small forest surrounding Hope's Peak with a clearing right by a pond which Tsumugi loved to work by, provided that her work wasn't too fragile.

They'd been sitting in silence, the only noise being the forest and the occasional roughness as Kirumi scraped the bottom of her shoes.

"Gokuhara would love it here, don't you think?" Tsumugi had said, taking a break from her concentration. Her thread snapped so she used the chance to flex her fingers.

Kirumi smiled. "Indeed, there are many species of bugs present." Underscoring her point, Kirumi gently wiped off an ant from her knee onto a log. "It seems he attracts them, does it not?"

"Ah!" Tsumugi cried happily. "Just like Ginto!"

"Who?"

"Ginto!" Tsumugi repeated. "From  _ Mushishi!  _ He attracts these primitive creatures called Mushi to him and so he has to move from place to place or else they can cause all sorts of bad things to happen!" Tsumugi clapped her hands together. "His name even kind of sounds like Gonta!"

Kirumi had chuckled slightly. "You are too cute, Tsumugi."

Tsumugi blushed and set her work down on the picnic blanket she'd brought. She leaned her shoulder against Kirumi's and set her head on the maid's shoulder, sighing contently. The sun was warm and so were Kirumi's lips on her forehead.

-

As Harumi takes her seat, Tsumugi folds her hands in her lap. Kirumi had told her that there was no speaking unless there was food in front of them, some old superstition that Harumi had from when she was a kid apparently. 

Harumi coughs. It's gross and phlegmy and feels needlessly loud. She takes a long drag from her cigarette then blinks in surprise as she notices it's finished. With practiced efficiency, Harumi flicks the butt from its holder into a small brass ashtray next to her silverware. She immediately refreshes her cigarette with another from her double-breasted suit pocket, though she doesn't light it. Instead, she twirls the holder between her fingers. Tsumugi swears she's about to drop it but she never does.

Mister Matsumoto returns with a tray filled with food that he serves to each guest before bowing and returning to the kitchen. Does he make the food, Tsumugi wonders, or are there other staff?

"Thank you for the food, Matsu Matsu!" Harumi calls, extending her arm in the general direction he had been. She lays down her cigarette holder and replaces it with chopsticks.

Kirumi does the same, so Tsumugi follows along. Beef _tataki_ , ugh. Tsumugi's never been fond of red meat, makes her stomach ache and the citrus sauce the meat floats in looks like syrup. Ever polite, she manages to get a bite. It's thick and coats the inside of her mouth.

"So, my dear Kirumi," Harumi says. Though she's holding her chopsticks, her food remains untouched. "Who is your friend?"

Automatically, Tsumugi says, "M-my name is-"

Harumi cuts her off. "In this household," she snaps, tone bitter and severe, "We speak when spoken to. You understand." It isn't a question, it's a command.

Tsumugi looks at her plate. Kirumi's foot is against Tsumugi's leg. Reassurance? It doesn't last long enough as Kirumi sets her chopsticks down to speak. "Her name is Tsumugi Shirogane, Mother."

"Lovely name."

"Indeed," Kirumi says. "Though I must correct you on one thing."

"Correct me?" It's the most genuine thing Tsumugi's heard Harumi say so far.

"Yes, Shirogane is not my friend."

Harumi raises her eyebrows. "She's not?" A passing glance at Tsumugi. "Then why the fuss of introducing me to her?"

Kirumi closes her eyes, sighs deep. Tsumugi raises her foot under the table and lays it on Kirumi's leg. There's a hint of a smile and Kirumi's face softens. She opens her eyes, matching her mother's gaze. "Shirogane is my girlfriend."

The word hangs in the air, clinging to the tension. Just as rehearsed, Tsumugi takes another bite of the tataki. There's too much citrus, it burns her lips. The meat is overdone. Tsumugi hears Mister Matsumoto swear followed by the clanging of a knife falling on the floor.

"Dear," Harumi says slowly. "You've said the same thing." A condescending smile. She rests a hand on her daughter's shoulder. "I go out with my girlfriends all the time!" She guffaws. "Friend, girlfriend, it is the same thing, silly girl! Didn't you just graduate high school just a few days ago. Sorry I couldn't make that by the way, very important meeting."

Kirumi had told Tsumugi that "meeting" was just an outing with some gentleman Harumi is involved with.

Fortunately, Kirumi had predicted this would happen. "No, Mother, you misunderstand."

"I do not think I do, daughter." There's an edge to her voice, a subtle threat.

"Tsumugi-" Harumi flinches ever so slightly at the use of Tsumugi's given name. "Tsumugi," Kirumi repeats, "and I are in a romantic relationship."

"I see," Harumi says, turning in her chair and resting her gaze on Tsumugi. "Shirogane." The name slithers from Harumi's throat with barely concealed disgust.

"Y-yes ma'am?" Tsumugi responds, setting her chopsticks down as Kirumi had instructed her to do.

"Would you agree with my daughter? Are you two - ehem - romantically inclined?"

"Yes."

"Yes  _ ma'am _ ," Harumi corrects.

"Yes ma'am."

Harumi leans back in her chair, rolls her cigarette holder between two spindly fingers. She's still holding her chopsticks. "And how is it," she says, "That my  _ daughter  _ is romantically inclined to another  _ girl _ ?" Harumi doesn't look at either Tsumugi or Kirumi, staring straight at the bouquet of lilies in front of her.

Without missing a beat, Kirumi says, "Because, mother, I am a lesbian."

"A lesbian?"

"It means I am solely attracted to other-"

"I know what it means!" Harumi shrieks, slamming her chopsticks down. Her cigarette holder rolls off the table. Ponzu sauce splashes from Harumi's full plate onto the cuff of her suit. Harumi hisses and glares at Kirumi. "Look what you've done!" She stands. "Matsu Matsu, come here this instant!"

"What seems to be the matter, mistress?" Mister Matsumoto asks. There's a gleam in his eye and Tsumugi knows he's been listening.

"Clear this away and bring us the next course," Harumi commands as if nothing had happened. "And fetch me a cold towel."

"Right away, mistress." Mister Matsumoto gathers the plates then hands Harumi a handkerchief that looks decidedly familiar.

Tsumugi bites the inside of her cheek as she notices Kirumi's embroidered signature on the end of the fabric. That's  _ her  _ handkerchief! It had been a gift on Valentine's Day. Now, ponzu sauce soaks into the pretty periwinkle cloth as Harumi slams it against her cuff.

"It won't come out, not anytime soon, it seems," Harumi says.

Not the way  _ you're  _ doing it, Tsumugi thinks. Harumi returns to her seat as Tsumugi tuts mentally. Harumi should be taking off her jacket to let it presoak. Oh well, she can deal with the stain.

Since the food has been taken, silence flourishes. Tsumugi catches Kirumi's eye here and there but otherwise looks all around the room except at Harumi. The older woman grumbles under her breath. Her eyes are sharp, like an executioner's blade.

-

There'd been a play put on as part of a small festival in Tsumugi's second year at Hope's Peak. She and Kirumi had been put on costume duty (though really Kirumi dabbled in a bit of everything). After the show finished on its last night, the only job left for the duo was to wash the costumes. Which, as it happened, let the two have some much needed alone time.

Not that they could enjoy it much. It was two in the morning and after weeks of hard work and minimal sleep, even the notable insomniac Kirumi wanted nothing more than to curl up in bed. The calming rumble of the washing machines and the warmth of the radiator in the basement didn't help matters.

"Hey, 'Mugi," Kirumi said, stifling a yawn with the back of her hand.

"Hm..hmm..what?" Tsumugi jumped awake; she hadn't realized she dozed off.

"We cannot sleep yet, we still have a job to do."

"Mmm, I know, I know." Tsumugi yawned, wide and open, any sense of politeness gone in the comfort of her girlfriend. Suddenly, an idea popped into Tsumugi's head. "Kirumi! Turn your stool and face me!"

Despite her quizzical look, Kirumi obliged. Tsumugi mirrored her so that both girls were sitting facing each other. 

"Tsumugi, why did you have me move?" A wry smile. "I was rather comfortable."

"I know, but this way we won't fall asleep!"

"Oh? How so?"

"Well, if we start to doze off, we'll fall forward and-" She clapped her hands together "-clonk right into the other one's forehead!"

"And if we fall backwards?"

Tsumugi put a finger to Kirumi's lips. "Noooo, my plan is perfect!"

"Yes, 'Mugi, you are correct." Kirumi leaned forward. "Your plan is perfect." She covered another yawn. "In fact, I believe I am about to fall asleep."

Grinning at the implication, Tsumugi said, "Oh my, me too, me too!"

The two leaned forward until their foreheads were pressed together. While sweet, the position did cause Tsumugi's glasses to bump against Kirumi. The maid gently removed them and folded them in her lap. "Better," she whispered.

"Don't get them too dirty," Tsumugi said, jutting her chin slightly forward.

"I would never," Kirumi replied, letting her lips meet Tsumugi's.

The two peppered each other with tender kisses until the laundry machine's beeping forced them back to work.

-

"Does anyone require more tea?" Mister Matsumoto says. Tsumugi blinks. Her tea is lukewarm by now but the last thing she wants to do is draw attention to herself. For once, she actually craves to be so plain that she fades into the background. If she was, then maybe Harumi wouldn't be glaring at her out of the corner of her eye.

"If I may, Mister Matsumoto," Kirumi says. She holds her cup to the kettle.

"Me, as well, Matsu Matsu! And how long on the next course?"

"I will bring it out at once, mistress."

"Good, good, and take this with you." Harumi shoves Tsumugi's handkerchief into Mister Matsumoto's hands.

Tsumugi curls her lip in, clenches her fists in her lap. That's  _ her  _ handkerchief and Harumi is treating it like a rag. Kirumi  _ made  _ that for  _ her _ . As Tsumugi is about to open her mouth (damn the consequences), she feels a foot on hers.

The foot taps the top of Tsumugi's, then rests itself on hers. Kirumi clears her throat into a napkin. Really, Kirumi, footsie, now? Tsumugi raises her eyebrows in disbelief as she looks at Kirumi, but the maid's poker face is unbreakable.

Fine, Tsumugi thinks, if that's how you want it. Tsumugi carefully removes her foot from under Kirumi's and then plants it firmly on top. The game goes on for several minutes, and Tsumugi has to take care not to wiggle around. For her part, Harumi seems unaware. She simply tears petals from a flower she plucked from the bouquet.

"I have returned with the main course, mistress," Mister Matsumoto says, interrupting the game.

Kirumi returns her foot to its proper place and smiles. She's facing Mister Matsumoto but Tsumugi knows the smile is only for her.

"Thank you," Kirumi says earnestly as the butler serves her a rather large portion of  _ okonomiyaki _ .

Great, more greasy foods. Tsumugi puts a hand over her stomach and tries not to grimace as the stench of the grilled cabbage assails her nostrils. Globs of mayonnaise run down the sides onto her plate and the _bonito_ flakes pop and dance from the heat. For someone as refined (though is she really?) as Harumi Tojo, her tastes seem to be quite low.

"Thank you so much, Matsu Matsu," Harumi says. "You are dismissed for now."

"Yes, mistress."

Just as before, Harumi picks up her chopsticks, signalling that eating is now permitted. Kirumi digs in eagerly, but Tsumugi hesitates for just a moment.

"So Shirogane," Harumi immediately says, picking at her food. "What is it you did?"

"I'm s-sorry, ma'am?"

"In that Hope's Peak place," Harumi derides. She points her chopsticks at Kirumi. "My daughter is the Ultimate Maid, what were you?"

"Oh, I was the Ultimate Cosplayer."

"Cosplayer?"

Tsumugi's eyes light up. "It's when you create a costume based on a character and you wear it -or you can have someone else wear it- and they…" 

Harumi's withering glare tells Tsumugi she neither knows what Tsumugi is talking about nor does she particularly care. "Does that, er, talent offer anything useful?"

A lump forms in Tsumugi's throat and tears prick her eyes. She wants to cry that cosplaying is useful, that it brings joy and comfort to those who need an outlet in their lives, that it's a wonderful way to make friends and share interests, that it's the only thing that kept Tsumugi sane during awful bouts of self-hatred. But she doesn't.

Instead, she says, "I… It got me a job on Broadway."

"Broadway?" Harumi says, pausing her incessant picking at her meal. Has she even taken a bite? She snorts. "Must have lowered their standards if they're accepting some 'cos-play-er'."

Tsumugi snatches her glasses and begins furiously polishing them with her skirt.  She smashes her eyes closed, it taking all her will to not cry at Harumi's words. 

"Mother," Kirumi says, stern. Tsumugi opens her eyes and sees that Kirumi's brow is furrowed, she's frowning. "You are upsetting Tsumugi."

"Hmph, I'm only kidding, dears." She aims her chopsticks at Tsumugi, sending a _bonito_  flake flying onto Tsumugi's plate. "You all need to be less sensit-"

"You are upsetting my  _ girlfriend _ , Mother," Kirumi says.

A spoon falls from the table. Its clinking echoes in the dining room. Harumi seethes through her teeth. She puckers her lips, breathes, collects her holder and spoon from the floor. Producing a lighter from her pocket, Harumi quickly lights up and takes a deep drag. The cloud of smoke she exhales clings to her face, shrouding it.

"Yes," she says, turns in her chair so she's entirely facing Tsumugi. Her elbows dig into the table so much that Tsumugi thinks it  _ must  _ hurt. "Broadway is in the United States, yes?"

Tsumugi says nothing, instead shoving a bite into her mouth.

"Answer. Me."

She swallows the only partially chewed food, forcing it down. "Y-yes ma'am."

"Yes ma'am what? What yes ma'am?"

"Mother, stop it," Kirumi spits.

"We speak when spoken to in this household."

"Yes, Broadway is in the United States, ma'am."

Harumi huffs, "Was that so hard?" Suddenly, she smiles. There's lipstick on her teeth. "Quite a long distance for a… relationship, wouldn't you say?"

"Hardly," Kirumi says.

"We  _ speak  _ when we are-"

"I will be moving to the United States with Tsumugi."

This gives Harumi pause. She takes several puffs of her cigarette in quick succession, then has a hacking fit into her hand. "You… You are?"

"Indeed."

"And just, pray tell, do you imagine you will do for work?"

Kirumi takes a bite, chews slowly, methodically, intentionally. Sometimes Tsumugi wishes she could be like that. Cool under pressure, always composed. Just a few words from Harumi nearly sent her into a meltdown.

-

"Tsumugi? Tsumugi! Why are you crying?" Kirumi had said over the phone.

Why was she crying? Why was she crying? God, she didn't know why she was crying! She had looked in the mirror and everything just came out. Her wig was crooked, it was crooked! And she looked hideous, not the costume, her, Tsumugi. Her costume was beautiful, an exact replica of  Moeka Kiryū, but she was just so plain so plain plain plain.

"Kir-Kirumi I- I-" She sobbed into the phone.

"I'm coming over," Kirumi had said. She never hung up, just let Tsumugi cry into her ear. At one point Tsumugi thought she heard a young man's voice.

A knock at the door.

"It's- It's o-open," Tsumugi choked out.

Kirumi had burst through the door and instantly run over to her, throwing her arms around Tsumugi. "Shh, 'Mugi, it's okay, it's okay, I'm here."

Tsumugi cried hard into Kirumi's shoulder. Her glasses clattered to the floor. "Why, Kirumi? Why?"

Kirumi rubbed small circles on Tsumugi's back. "Why what?"

"Why? Why are you with someone as plain as me? You're so, so wonderful and charming and… and… mmf." She felt her face being buried into Kirumi's shoulder.

"'Mugi, I told you,  _ you _ are wonderful. Kind, passionate, dedicated. I could not imagine loving anyone else."

"That's so boring." Tsumugi sniffled. "I wish I was just a character, then I'd be interesting. I'd have a character arc, maybe a plot twist."

"I don't," Kirumi said. "Because then you wouldn't be you."   


They didn't separate until morning. Not even Kiyotaka Ishimaru could convince Kirumi to go back to her room (not that he tried very hard). There'd been so many nights like that. Too many. And yet Kirumi had been gentle and patient with Tsumugi each time. 

-

"I have been hired by the Togami Conglomerate to assist in the running of their New York branch, Mother," Kirumi says, snapping Tsumugi out of her memories. "It pays rather lucratively, so Tsumugi and I shall be quite comfortable."

"Oh?" Harumi says, voice hollow. "You will be  _ living  _ together?"

"That is generally what long term couples do, yes."

Tsumugi shovels more food into her mouth. Or, tries to, but her plate's empty and her stomach aches. 

Harumi pauses, blinks, takes a drag. "Matsu  _ Matsu _ !" she calls. "Come clear this away!"

As usual, Mister Matsumoto arrives in a timely manner, but as he begins to clear the table, Harumi holds up a hand. "Kirumi, dear, we have so many dishes, please help Matsu Matsu, would you?"

"Mistress, I am more than able-"

"Kirumi, dear  _ daughter _ , please help Matsu Matsu."

Sighing, Kirumi rises and begins gathers her plate and silverware. "Of course,  _ Mother _ ." There's an underlying threat in her voice. A promise. A message to Tsumugi. If it gets to be too much, cry out, call, do something, Kirumi will come. A knight in banged up, worn armor and a smile on her face.

"That's a good girl," Harumi says. "Don't you worry, Matsu Matsu, with Kirumi's talent, it should only take - oh - about thirty minutes."

"Yes, mistress," Mister Matsumoto replies. As he leans over to grab Tsumugi's plate, she swears that he shoots her an empathetic glance.

Soon, the table is empty aside from the bouquet, though Harumi is slowly tearing that to bits. Torn petals and snapped stems litter floor around the older woman, though she doesn't seem to mind as she stands, rising to her full height. She strides purposefully over to where Tsumugi is sitting, taking care to stop directly behind the cosplayer.

Tsumugi tries to sit up as straight as she can but she just wants to sink into the consuming darkness of the room. She hadn't noticed before but the chandelier above is candlelit, and the candles are on their last legs. A plume of smoke shadows the chandelier as Harumi exhales over Tsumugi's head. A nauseating mixture of cigarette smoke and vanilla perfume. Tsumugi's stomach flips, feels distended and painful. Running water and indistinct idle chatter clamor in from the kitchen. She wants to call Kirumi, or run into the kitchen, or disappear like Mister Matsumoto seems to.

But she can't. No, she won't. Harumi is an antagonist, and she'll be the shonen protagonist. She'll show Kirumi that she doesn't need to always rely on the maid.

"Shirogane," Harumi says, her voice amplified by her positioning. "Do you have any dreams?"

"Um, I want to be a famous costume designer, ma'am." Tsumugi steeles herself for whatever nasty comment may come from that.

"Hmph" is all Harumi responds. Tsumugi grits her teeth. "Would you like to hear my dream?"

No I want to go and crawl into bed and cuddle with Kirumi until I forget you exist, Tsumugi thinks.

"Yes ma'am," she says.

Harumi leans down so her face is directly next to Tsumugi's. Her breath is a rancid mixture of tobacco and grease and mint. She sets two fingers on the table, right on top of an etching of a dragon. She begins miming that her fingers are walking along the length of the dragon's body. "Grandchildren," Harumi states. "I want grandchildren."

Harumi jerks up, begins pacing around. Each step is poignant, clear, distinct. She drums her fingers against the walls of the dining room. A drop of wax falls from the chandelier. "Pitter-patter," Harumi mumbles. "I love that sound. Pitter-patter, pitter-patter." She pauses her drumming. "Do you know what makes that sound, Shirogane?"

"Children, ma'am?"

The drumming continues. Stop it, stop it, stop it, Tsumugi thinks. 

"Rain, a snare drum," Harumi says in a patronizing tone. "But yes," The pitter-patter stops, "Children."

Tsumugi dares to turn and look at Harumi who returns the cosplayer's gaze with ferocity. The older woman steps behind Tsumugi and grips both her shoulders. Their hands are so similar, long fingers with big cuticles. Tsumugi's and Harumi's hands, that is.

"Imagine it, Shirogane. Little children running around. I'd open up the windows and doors -this house gets quite spacious, you know- and they'd giggle and shriek as they played with their grandmother." Harumi's grip tightens. "And when they get older, they'd care for Kirumi just as she'll care for me. Or, she would." She digs her nails into Tsumugi's shoulders. 

Grimacing, Tsumugi says, "You're hurting me, ma'am."

"And you, me, girl." 

"How, how am I possibly hurting you?" Tsumugi asks before she can stop herself. She shrugs off Harumi's hands.

"Because," Harumi says haughtily. "You're taking what's mine. My daughter, my grandchildren. You know that same-sex  _ couples  _ cannot adopt or have in-vitro fertilization or even artificial insemination, ugh." Harumi shudders, cringing. "I despise that word."

"Excuse me?"

"'Artificial'," Harumi spits. "I like things natural, Shirogane. The table is pure wood, even the stain used on it is all-natural." She gestures to the photographs on the wall. "These, developed with biodegradable film. Natural." A drag on a cigarette. Butts litter the floor. "Everything natural, unlike your little relationship."

Anger bubbles in Tsumugi. She shoots up from her chair. Though she can feel tears fall from her eyes, the lump is gone from her throat. "I don't care what you say! I love Kirumi, damn it! I love her with all of my heart and it's a natural, beautiful love. The kind you see in melodramas! And nothing,  _ nothing  _ you say will change that!" 

Tsumugi's chest heaves and her throat is dry. A strand of hair falls from her clip. A cold sweat beads on her forehead. But she did it, the big tell-off. The "reason you suck speech" has been given. Tsumugi fights a small smile. Take that, Harumi Tojo.

Harumi Tojo laughs. Laughs as if Tsumugi has just told her a pleasant, midday joke. "Silly girl, I do not care if you love my daughter."

"You what?" Tsumugi asks, deflated.

Harumi cards her free hand through her hair. "It is of no concern if you love my daughter."

"Then… then what… What the hell was all of this?!" Tsumugi cries.

"To make a point, didn't you listen to Matsu Matsu?"

"What point? If you don't care about our relationshi-"

"Ah ah, tsk tsk tsk!" Harumi interrupts. "You misunderstand. It is not that  _ you  _ love my daughter, it is that you have made  _ her think  _ she loves you."

"T-think?"

Harumi's eyes glitter. "Yes, yes. It's her phase she's going through -we all go through it really- and  _ that  _ is quite natural." She tries to grab another cigarette but finds the pack empty. Scowling, she crumples it and tosses it onto the decimated bouquet. "But you, Shirogane, seem to have convinced my daughter she  _ loves  _ you!"

Tsumugi almost can't believe what she's hearing. The fact is that Kirumi is the love of her life, the Utena to Tsumugi's Anthy. And to act as if it's all based on deception and lies? Not even Kokichi would say such things.

Tsumugi balls her fists. "You-!"

"I can see how Kirumi could fall for someone like you," Harumi drones on, as if oblivious to Tsumugi's anger. "You really are quite beautiful. A fine figure, pleasant voice and mannerisms, quirky enough to be endearing." She walks over to a photo that shows Harumi sitting in the driver's seat of a car, flipping her hair back, tongue out at the camera. "An old - ah - acquaintance of mine, took this, if you get my meaning."

Suddenly, Harumi whirls around and stomps towards Tsumugi. She shoves her cigarette holder against Tsumugi's chest, causing the cosplayer to a take a few steps back. "That hurt!"

Harumi ignores her protests. "She was a good time, my old  _ acquaintance _ . But she was temporary and I had a duty to fulfill. A duty to marry a good man and provide my parents children. A duty Kirumi has!" Harumi's mouth twists into a smile. "And you should know how much Kirumi prides herself on fulfilling her duty."

"Stop it," Tsumugi whimpers. "Stop it! You're just trying to get into my head!" Harumi's lying, or at least, putting her own filthy spin on everything, Tsumugi knows. Fragments of memory come back to Tsumugi. Kirumi holding the cosplayer after a panic attack, despite missing class. The two of them sneaking out after curfew to gaze at the stars during a citywide blackout. Kirumi electing to help Tsumugi finish her dress over refurbishing Gonta's insect room. The hundreds, no, thousands, no, millions of times Kirumi's said she loves Tsumugi. That beautiful, subtle smile, the hint of pink of her cheeks. Each time said with the honesty of an angel. 

Tsumugi smiles.

Harumi doesn't like that. "Wipe that disgusting grin off your face, girl." She spins the cigarette holder between her fingers. "I bet you're thinking perverted thoughts of my daughter. I'd imagine that you take have engaged in such acts."

That's not at all what Tsumugi's thinking about. But she can't pass up the opportunity to mess with the woman. She smirks and makes a lewd face. "Mmmmmhhmmmmm…"

Harumi Tojo drops the cigarette holder.

Harumi Tojo slaps Tsumugi across the face.

Kirumi Tojo drops the plates she's carrying, shattering them.

Kirumi Tojo is on her mother in an instant, arm extended protectively in front of Tsumugi.

"How  _ dare  _ you ever lay a hand on Tsumugi!" Kirumi shouts. Tsumugi recoils slightly; she's only ever seen Kirumi this outwardly angry once before.

"The little  _ slut _ -"

"Do not call her that!"

"I will call her whatever I please. It is my home."

"That doesn't give you a right to-"

Tsumugi's attention is yanked from the fight as she notices Mister Matsumoto beckoning her from the doorway. As Harumi and Kirumi begin to scream at each other, Tsumugi slips away. She follows the butler through the twisting hallways until they are back in the foyer.

"Oh my," Mister Matsumoto says, "Mistress has really done it this time?"

Tsumugi puts a hand to her cheek. It wasn't a hard slap, but the sting is more emotional than anything. "Kiru -er- Tojo-"

"You may use her given name in front of me, do not worry."

"Kirumi's so plainly angry."

Mister Matsumoto opens a closet and retrieves Tsumugi's jacket. Tucked in the front pocket is her neatly folded handkerchief, clean and fresh with detergent. "Oh yes," he says, "Those two can fight like nothing I have ever seen."

"Really?"

"They once fought for sixteen hours straight. I fed them in between their shouts."

Tsumugi has to giggle at the image. Mister Matsumoto opens the front door and allows Tsumugi to step out onto the porch. Deep blues and purples swathe the evening sky with only a hint of smoldering red left on the horizon. The humidity from earlier is all but gone and Tsumugi breathes in the air, smelling the delicate aromas of the flowers in the garden.

"Do you mind if smoke?" Mister Matsumoto says, cigarette already in his mouth.

Though she takes a couple steps away, Tsumugi nods. "Go ahead."

The butler chuckles. He has such a warm laugh. It reminds Tsumugi of Kirumi's. Tender and rare. "My husband does not care for it either." He winks at Tsumugi conspiratorially. "But he thinks smoking men are quite...fetching."

"Your… husband?" Tsumugi asks.

Blowing a thin plume of smoke into the sky, away from Tsumugi, Mister Matsumoto nods. "Yes, though I suppose legally we are not married, of course. I still consider him my husband."

"And Miss Tojo is… alright with it?" Tsumugi refrains from asking how he can stand to work for a homophobic bitch like her. 

"I am sure she would throw quite a fit if she knew. But she is quite clueless that the 'good friend' I bring over from time to time is the man I love."

"I… don't think I could do that," Tsumugi says.

"Oh?"

Tsumugi steps over to the flowers, in front of the lilies bloom, their little white petals glimmering in the last vestiges of sunlight. "I… I pressured Kirumi to do this. She didn't want me to meet her mom."

Mister Matsumoto cocks an eyebrow.  

"But, I couldn't live with always having to pretend," Tsumugi continues, "Like I always used to do." She smiles and rubs her wrist. "Kirumi helped me not have to pretend."   


Tossing the cigarette on the ground, Mister Matsumoto moves over to Tsumugi. He smells like tobacco and leather. He places a comforting hand on Tsumugi's shoulder. "You are braver than I, Shirogane. I have gotten so used to acting I think I've forgotten how not to." He looks at Tsumugi with hard, forlorn eyes. "I have a feeling that you and Kirumi have a long, happy life in your future. I am glad you do not have to pretend."

Tsumugi gives him a small smile before jerking her head towards the sound of a door slamming. Kirumi storms out, her face tight and red. 

"Miss Kirumi, are you ready to leave?" Mister Matsumoto says, though he is already heading towards the car door.

Kirumi nods. She snatches Tsumugi's hand and begins dragging the cosplayer in the same direction. A few minutes later, the trio is on the road towards Kirumi and Tsumugi's hotel. Kirumi hasn't let go of Tsumugi's hand.

The maid stares out the window, occasionally grumbling to herself. "Make sure to come back for Christmas, my ass…" is the only thing Tsumugi can make out.

As much as the cosplayer wants to reach out and bring Kirumi close to her, she knows that when Kirumi is upset, it's better to give her space.

-

It had been a long day. Multiple exams, plus practicals. The night before had been rough, too. Kirumi had spent most of it taking shifts with Mikan in caring for several students that had come down with a rather nasty strain of the flu. So it came as no surprise when Kirumi basically collapsed on Tsumugi's bed at the end of the day.

However, before Tsumugi could even close the door, Kirumi had said, "'Mugi, I am going to wash your sheets."  She tried to get up but Tsumugi rushed over and grabbed Kirumi's shoulders.

"No, no! It's plain to see that you are tired and need rest." Tsumugi put one arm on her waist. "And Tsumugi is here to make sure you get it!"

Kirumi groaned. "Thank you, 'Mugi, but your sheets haven't been washed in a couple of weeks and as a maid it is my duty to make sure everything is sanitary."

Rolling her eyes, Tsumugi said, "And as your  _ girlfriend _ , it's my job to keep you from overworking yourself."

"I am not overworked," Kirumi snapped. She pulled the corner of the sheets off the bed. "Now let me help."

Tsumugi grabbed Kirumi's hand. "I said, you need to rest. I can handle it."

"Do you even know how the washing machine works?" Kirumi had asked, then immediately puckered her lips.

Tsumugi stared at her, mouth hanging open. "What does  _ that  _ mean?"

Kirumi opened her mouth, closed it, yanked her hand away from Tsumugi. "It does not matter. I am washing these sheets and that is that."

"Why do you get to decide that, huh?" Tsumugi blocked the door. "Why are you acting like I'm your damn child?!"

"I am not," Kirumi protested. "I am just trying to care for you."

"If you're helping me then why can't I help you?" Tsumugi reached for Kirumi's waist but the maid had pulled back.

"You do not need to worry yourself with my wellbeing!" Kirumi shouted, shoving her way past Tsumugi. As much as Tsumugi didn't want to admit it, Kirumi was far, far stronger than she ever would be.

As Kirumi stomped down the hall, Tsumugi had called out, "So sorry for trying to care about you!" before flinging herself on her unmade bed and burying her face in her arms.

The two didn't speak for almost three days.

-

Tsumugi rubs the back of Kirumi's hand with her thumb. It's a gentle reminder that she's here, that Kirumi can rely on her. Back then, Tsumugi didn't understand that Kirumi simply wasn't used to having others to care for her or that she could rely on. Now that Tsumugi's seen Harumi, she doesn't find that so surprising anymore.

Kirumi glances at Tsumugi out of the corner of her eye then turns back to the window. She squeezes Tsumugi's hand.

Tsumugi smiles and nods. She makes small talk with Mister Matsumoto the rest of the way to the hotel.

By the time they arrive, it's quite late. Wishing him the best, Tsumugi promises Mister Matsumoto that she'll absolutely keep in touch. She and Kirumi head up to their room and go through their nightly routine without a word. 

As they climb into bed, Tsumugi manages to sneak a quick kiss on Kirumi's cheek. Though she doesn't kiss back, she does inch closer to Tsumugi and let the cosplayer nestle her face into her back.

"Goodnight, Kirumi."

"Yes, goodnight, Tsumugi."

A few minutes pass and suddenly Kirumi rolls over and Tsumugi can feel her lips being pressed against the maid's. Tsumugi melts into the kiss and wraps her arms around Kirumi's shoulders, draping a leg over Kirumi's as well.

"I'm sorry," Kirumi breathes when they separate.

Tsumugi twines her fingers into Kirumi's hair and presses their foreheads together. "Don't be, I'm glad we did it. I don't want to end up like Mister Matsumoto."

Kirumi smiles, it's wonderful and delicate and Tsumugi almost feels guilty hiding it with her lips. Almost.

 Dealing with Harumi will be endlessly infuriating, Tsumugi knows. But Kirumi's worth it. Not having to act is worth it. Being able to be Tsumugi and Kirumi, girlfriend and girlfriend (and maybe wife and wife one day) is worth it. Tsumugi draws her love even deeper into the embrace.

"I love you, Tsumugi."

"I love you, too, Kirumi."

 

  
  


  
  
  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Huh, I have no idea when I wrote this. It just appeared on my screen like magic one day. Seriously, I'm not entirely sure what I'd call this. Melodramatic? Yes. A bit cheesy? Yes. Fun to write? Absolutely.
> 
> As always, comments and criticism are welcome and appreciated!


End file.
